


Hooked and Cooked

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other, Slow Burn, Threesome, also get ready for the feelies later on, doesn't use y/n, gender neutral reader, genderless reader, i might be a lil rusty, implied Roadrat - Freeform, later on there will be smut, not everything is tagged here yet, there wasn't going to be at first but why the fuck not, things get blown up, this is my first fanfic in YEARS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A peaceful evening out in the east end. Something to truly celebrate your success in college, however your success soon came to a crashing halt.You manage to find yourself sealed in a deal with two of the world's most lethal criminals: Junkrat and Roadhog. You only have your heritage and skills to blame. With no way to escape without getting a bullet to the brain, you begin to do your dirty work.But hey, maybe these guys aren't so bad. Maybe.





	1. Booming Performance

**Author's Note:**

> My first fan fiction since my days in the Homestuck fandom. Wow.  
> This might not be perfect as I'm a little unconfident in writing canon characters, but I really wanted to give this a go! 
> 
> I haven't decided on an ending yet, but I plan to make this last at least 20 chapters if I'm able to.  
> I'm also planning on Mei and Zenyatta make an appearance later on, but that's unconfirmed for now. 
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoy!

Luck was within your favour tonight. Despite the tube being jam packed with various wanderers and workers of London, causing trains to be at a backlog of late starts and delayed appearances, the workers at the Apollo Victoria were kind enough to let you inside. If it were any other day they would say turning up five minutes before was too late, and not eligible for a refund. You heard word that due to the chaos of the underground not many had turned up to witness the glory that was the story of two young witches. Apparently, though albeit evolved throughout the many years of performance and changes of cast, said tale had been told here for at least 50 years now. Perhaps, more than that. You wasn’t quite sure. Needless to say, it was an old story, but considered a classic.

Which is why, now that the dread of classes were now long gone for life, you decided after you graduated from college to go see the wonders of broadway. You weren’t a drama student, no, but you definitely admired the dedication of actors and the ever-so indulgent stories that many make, including the more comical ones. You weren’t really expecting for this show to be a comedy, however. Rumour has it, it does have it’s moments, but otherwise it was a heart-warming experience.

To your surprise your current attire, smart casual with accents of your favourite colour, along with a cutesy logo of a Pachimari somewhere in your outfit, didn’t make any of the workers here quirk a brow. These days, it was expected that those who visited theatres to dress in a more elegant fashion, for it was important to keep up a good impression. Not you, though. You didn’t really care, you dressed however you felt like that day. With a small grin, your hand presented your ticket to the omnic clad in elegant coattails and a hat, the Ticket Inspector. The inspector calmly grasped and tore off one half of your ticket before returning the other piece to you, after inspecting it of course. Eyes lighting up, you gave the inspector a quick thanks, before promptly making your way to the seats. You didn’t carry a large bag, and the inspector deemed it too small to inspect. Not that you had any food in there anyway, you had your stash of treats and a bottle of water hidden within a section in your coat. They’ll never suspect a thing! Plus, who really pays _that_ much for a packet of chocolate nibbles these days? Gosh.

Thankfully, the lights hadn’t begun to dim yet, giving you the time to read your seat location and speed-walking to find it. You were near the back, five rows from the doors, and four seats from the end of your section. No one else was at the back apart from an elderly fellow on the other side, closer to the doors, as well as a couple on the opposite end of the seats from where you were sitting. Other than that, most of the crowd had huddled near the front, given that not many will turn up to fill those seats anymore. You hesitated, should you go to the front too? But what if the owner of the seat _did_ turn up after all? Would it even be worth it getting right up close? Maybe not. Sometimes it was better to sit closer to the back, if this was anything like a cinema anyway. You didn’t want to suffer neck cramps from looking up because you were sat too close. You flipped down the seat and promptly made yourself comfortable, your bag resting on your lap, inside it was your phone and wallet. Before rummaging through your coat to get your snacks and drink, you awaited for the lights to dim before removing your coat and obtaining your sweet, sweet sugary goods. You had brought along your favourite snack, two packets of orange chocolate bites, as well as a bottle of water.

You promptly opened up the packet of your favourite snack so you wouldn’t cause a racket later on the show when there wasn’t a musical number booming. Though, once the lights have been dimmed, the orchestra began to play it’s song, a rather delicious melody of trumpets soon followed by drums and then violins filled the air. It was as if the ground itself had began to shake from the sheer volume and intensity, clearly the orchestra was pumped to play for tonight. With a rumble of the drums, the curtains began to draw open, where a young woman began to spring into action, dancing and singing her melody. Small streams of golden light illuminated parts of the stage, while the rest of it was backlit in a soothing blue. This woman appeared to play as one of the protagonists, wearing a witch hat, along with some metallic wings that shimmered a pearlescent rainbow in the light. Her hips swayed, and her feet moved quickly in time of the tune, her voice bringing together the harmony of music. You relished in the moment, admiring the wonderful costume the actor was clad in, and every single little prop that was currently on stage. While staring at a fake fountain spewing golden water, another person had come onto the stage.

This one, you knew. Not the character, but the actor behind the mask. Bradley Tennant. A highly successful and awfully rich man. He made his way to the top due to his heritage of actors and actresses, one bloodline heritance you didn’t get a taste of. The man was your uncle, and considered yourself good family with him. However there were some things you didn’t quite know. For example, he had a business going on along in the background while he spent his days acting. What exactly? You have no idea. He never told anyone else other than his own wife and children. By this point, the music had came to a halt, while the two characters began to exchange a small array of awkward words, the two very nervous around each other. Wait a second— There was a part one to this? They’ve met before? Huh. Maybe you should've done your research before coming here.

Though, something did catch your attention during all of this. Nothing on stage, no, but something felt… Off. The music was no longer playing, so why did it feel like the ground was still shaking every now and then? Within that train of thought, you heard a muffled explosion from beyond the stage, but everyone else seemed too invested in the musical to notice it. You glance behind to the elderly man, whom also didn’t seem affected. Maybe it was just someone moving bits of scenery behind there?

You were wrong. Oh so terribly wrong.

“Come out and _play_!”

Those were the words that screeched out, just seconds before the wall of the stage had combusted, spreading debris and shrapnel across the stage floor and into the seats of viewers. A mortified cry of fear rang through your ears as you saw the lady on stage was impaled by a rather large piece of metal, now implanted firmly into her stomach. An array of screams and bellowing soon came afterward, all the while two well-built bodyguards scrambled onto stage to rescue Tennant, quickly escorting him out of the scene, gliding past you. You were in shock, paralysed by how sudden the explosion was, and before your eyes the world of fantasy and joy was being torn apart in a matter of seconds. Another explosion shook you from your state of shock, and brought you back to the terrible fate of reality. By this time, two new faces had appeared before the audience, one donning a horrible mask of a stitched pig face, carrying a hook and a gun. This… _thing_ , was obese, and could pretty much tower other anyone they wanted, so much so you weren’t entirely sure if they were human or not. Tattoos had ridden their belly, and grunts and chuckles of twisted pleasure rang out from the mask as they proceeded to fire at a nearby innocent.

The other face did not have a mask, but instead a twisted, toothy grin, one portrayed normally on a creature of insane intention. It reminded you of an overjoyed clown, and that hair? That definitely contributed to that imagery. Wild, patchy, and the ends of which were ignited and singed. Burning amber eyes scanned the crowd before him, before lobbing what appeared to be a concussion mine into another section of the audience, causing more bodies to fly up in the air in a gore-y, limb filled display. This only furthered the amusement of the pyromaniac, causing him to erupt in cackles and howls of joy.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. This. This was happening…

_You knew who they were, too._

The two Junker criminals, Junkrat and Roadhog. Standing before you on a blood, gut and limb covered stage, weapons at the ready to bring further havoc. The smaller Junker’s eyes were hungry for more, twitching in a sick excitement, while his taller comrade only made a few grunts here and there, as if speaking in some form of instruction to the lithe man. It weren’t going to be long before you came nothing but a heap of pulp too.

You had to think of something to avoid getting in the line of fire of these two! It just turns out while you were fixated on examining the criminals, a few more bombs had exploded, including one nearby the couple right at the end of the line of seats you were on. Their bodies now laid limp, unmoving, and blood pooled beneath them. From what you could tell, there had to of been a bomb planted here prior, at least you thought. You didn’t see neither of the Junkers throw a bomb your way.

Without wasting another precious second, you dropped to the floor, disregarding your snacks. You never knew this couple, but they were about to help you survive, much to your dismay of not wanting to get blood on your hands. You weren’t even sure that the Junkers could see you this far out, but you were silently praying they couldn’t. After all, it was darker at the back. Your hands and knees began to scramble, crawling across the carpet and watching out for any traps or possible bombs that could be planted nearby. Eventually, after being as cautious and swift as possible, you reached the corpses of the young couple and suppressing any morals and/or hygiene you have, you reached out and cupped as much blood into your hands as possible before smearing it all over yourself. Your face, your clothes, anywhere where there is skin showing. There was no time to admire your handiwork, and you promptly sprayed your limbs out on the floor, and held still, playing dead.

You sure as fuck hope the internet didn’t lie about this one. 

Apart from the constant ringing in your ears, there was silence. Well, until that insane excuse of a human being began to bellow in laughter once again. As much as you wanted to grimace and shiver at how much his laugh rattled your bones and deep into your core, you had to stay still, and pray, pray to the fucking gods they don’t find you playing pretend. With a shuffling of feet, the two criminals began to have an exchanging of words, most of which you couldn’t work out. Junkrat had a really thick Australian accent, along with some of the lingo he was currently using you couldn’t make two cents of what he was talking about. Though, one thing was clear enough to understand; his expression of wanting to loot the dead.

“Heh, I’ll never get tired of this, Roadie! Look at it! Look at what beauty we made ‘ere tonight!” Junkrat cried out in glee, tip-toeing on his feet quickly in one spot for a moment before receiving a flick on the back of the head by the larger Junker. “Oi! What was that for, ya big ol’ lug? We blew ourselves in, right?!”

Roadhog glared down at Junkrat, exhaling loudly through his mask, his chest slowly falling down. “Tennant.” He spoke simply, before giving a displeased grunt. A confused whimper escaped the lips of the Rat, scratching the side of his head momentarily, before gasping in realisation.

 “OHHHHH _right!_ The guy we’re ‘sposed to nab!” Junkrat drawled out before giggling, glancing around at his work of… art, as he would say. “Well, shit, turns out he ain’t here. Either that or he accidentally exploded… Serves ‘im right. As long as you didn’t see anyone up and take ‘im?”  

Silence was between them, before Roadhog sighed. “Go find him. He can’t of gone far.”

After being commanded by the bodyguard, Junkrat began to limp his way towards a possible escape route for the celebrity, which was a lucky guess for him, as it was the path you saw the guards haul Tennant. You reminded yourself to be still as the man hobbled past your corpses, biting your tongue as you heard a giggle upon glancing over the apparent pile of mostly dead bodies.  But for now, there was still one problem within the room for you; Roadhog. Leaping off the stage, the behemoth began to shuffle his way through the corpses. It can’t be too long before the police arrive, right? They had to have some sort of trace that the Junkers were here. Nevertheless, you were trying to think of an escape plan. You knew these two wouldn’t leave a single survivor, and you assumed these two were after the riches of your uncle. There was absolutely no way you were going to let your blood get on their hands. Yet the fate of your uncle was now in the balance, out of your reach and up to fate and that made you want to well up in tears.

Shuffling, your head slowly peered over the seat, however slightly, just to make sure Roadhog was now alone. Indeed he was, and he was currently looting a corpse of any valuable possessions. Trembling, you manage to bring yourself to your feet once again without making too much noise. You could run for the door you had entered, but you had no idea if that other Junker had made his way there by now, or whereabouts in the building he was heading to. Your eyes were drawn to the massive hole that once was home to the stage background. Wait, seriously? How crazy must you be to even consider going that way? There still could be bombs! Though, you didn’t quite fancy your chances of being caught by Roadhog either.

With that, you began with your sneak attempt, going back onto your hands and knees and crawling towards the front of the seats. You were becoming more and more unnerved upon getting closer to the giant criminal and being able to hear his breathing. You’ll never know why Roadhog decided to don the gas mask in shape of a pig, but if you had to hazard a guess; it worked well for intimidation. As much as you wanted to draw your eyes away from the possible predator, you couldn’t in fear that he’d suddenly turn and face you without you focusing on him. At times when you saw the Hog pocket some valuables and move onto the next corpse, you laid back onto the ground and played dead once again. For a while, this continued, painfully making your way to freedom, until now. Roadhog was looting a corpse with you in his line of sight. The Hog went about his business, patting the body down and stuffing his hands in any pockets, but you noticed midway through, Roadhog had ended up staring right at you. 

If you weren’t already frozen, you definitely were now in fear as the glass of his mask’s eyes appeared to be staring right through your soul. An elongated exhale left him, all while focusing on your body, covered in now dried up blood. God, did he… Did he know you weren’t there before? Thinking about it, you wouldn’t put it past him if he _had_ taken into account of the location of everybody they killed. As a matter of fact, you definitely weren’t one of them. It seemed like an entire age had gone by before Roadhog finally broke his gaze, kicking the slaughtered body before him aside and going to the next corpse, now turning his back. A bullet had been dodged, barely scraping the skin. Yet, you held your breath. Now wasn’t the time to relish and enjoy small victories when you were still in danger.

Continuing forth, it was easier to perform movements now that there was a strategy in place. Move, wait if the big guy moves, wait until he’s finished moving to a new body, then continue with your escape. Somehow you had manage to find a new found confidence, ever so slowly getting faster with every time you moved, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Another thing you could also feel was the threatening feeling of an oncoming migraine, which was another factor to your rush in movements. It didn’t take much longer to reach the stage, at that point there was only one thing to do. Rising to your feet, you began to break into a sprint, zooming for the nearest cover you could find which was a piece of broken wall left behind from the wreckage. Upon hearing your feet, Roadhog’s attention had been caught, whipping himself around and already grabbing his hook. A contact of bricks and metal rang loudly in your ear as you barely made it behind cover, Roadhog’s hook barely missing your neck. Having caught a glimpse of the crooked metal had sent a shot of energy through you, fuelling your final sprint back to the outside world. Chains began to rattle and clink and you squeaked as you heard the echo of a gun shot behind you. Roadhog hoped he had caught you by the legs, to make you fall back down, but this was not the case.

Your second bullet dodged, however in the literal sense this time.

No turning back now, you were out in the harsh English air, and darting for whatever safety you could stumble upon. All the while, more explosions rang from the top of the building you fled from, followed by masculine screams and that same, horrid, high pitched laugh of insanity. Junkrat had caught his prey. Your very own uncle. The loss of a family member wasn’t currently first thing on your mind however.

You had looked back to see if the Hog had come in pursuit, however from your glance you couldn’t see any sight of the towering Junker. That didn’t stop your legs from continuing onwards, or your brain from listening to your lungs screaming in agony as your breath became short. You were looking for anything— anyone— that could help you out, but the police sirens were at a considerable distance. The only thing that could have some use was the pay-to-use motorcycles London’s mayor had provided throughout the capital, and you knew these things couldn’t go very fast. Yet, at this point, it was the only option.

Despite not having a penny to spare, your hands grasped onto the handles of the motor and revved the engine to life. The machine came to life upon feeling the flesh on the handles, and red, white and blue accents began to illuminate on the bike, as well as begin to hover in the air. Flooring the pedal, you jolted as the bike struggled against the chain, refusing to give, but after silently pleading for success, the chain eventually broke, and you began bolting forward, barely having any control of direction. A yelp escaped your lips, clinging onto dear life and forgetting to lift your foot from the gas to prevent you from becoming a speed demon. The wind made your hair wave wildly behind you, and graze your cheeks with the frosty air of English Autumn. You fully welcomed the cold punishing air, especially after enduring the heat of a variety of explosions. Exhaling, you held yourself from looking back at the carnage of what became of Apollo Victoria Theatre, as well as the possible fate of Bradley Tennant and the many innocents inside that building. You were the survivor, the only survivor. You had no idea where to go from here on out 

But it was going to be as far away from here as possible.

 

———

 

Roadhog had saw you. Watched as you scrambled to flee. He attempted to bring you back, curl you around the hook, and watch as you plead and writhed under his grip as you begged for mercy. For him not to shoot your brains out there and then. Somehow, you avoided that fate. You were a second too quick for the well-known criminal, and that played on your mind. You wasn’t safe. By now, you knew Hog had to have told his Rat companion about his encounter, about how they managed to let one slip. One that knows the whereabouts of two wanted criminals. That thought played on your mind endlessly as you zoomed down the backstreets of London, and you couldn’t shake it off no matter what you did. You knew deep down in your gut they couldn’t let you go on knowing you saw what you saw. A new name was on their list, and it was yours.

Dumping the motorcycle down an alleyway temporarily, you approached an outside public bathroom and scampered in. You made a bee-line for the sinks and hastily turned on the water, said liquid gushing from the pipe. Holding your hands out in a cup you let the water pool into your palms, before splashing and rubbing your face free of the blood of strangers you used to feign death. You did the same to your arms, though some of it had still stained your skin and couldn’t be removed without soap. Soap. They didn’t have soap in a public bathroom? That’s disgusting. The very thought of you using a dead corpse’s blood as a survival tactic was disgusting, let alone actually doing it. However, it worked. Sorta.

Fuck this. Fuck this all to hell. You scrambled out back into the damp street, grabbing the handles of your “lended” motorbike and began to walk alongside it. You decided it would be best to head towards a bar. Any bar. Going to the police? That sounds like suicide at this point. Drinking the fear away was the only option this time. As someone in their early twenties, college life had taught you the wonders of alcohol and how it could relieve stress, and ensue a better outlook on life. Admittedly, you weren’t an avid drinker, but tonight was different. You needed a drink. You needed a pacifier to rush away the guilt. You were training to be a carer, someone who would look out for others, but this? No. You couldn’t live with this. You were about to let these people take the lives of people who (probably) did nothing wrong, and let it slip by. You let them kill your own uncle. Hell, you didn’t even check if that sweet couple was _still alive._ Your decision in not going to the police was confirmation. You’re guilty. You leaned your motorcycle against the front of the bar, nearby a window, and proceeded to the door.

Blood crusted on your favourite coat, but when you entered the bar no one seemed to bat an eyelash. They carried on, drinking their thoughts into a pit of beer or other beverage of their choice, while some of them were indulging in quiet, sometimes one-sided conversation. Sliding your feet to the counter, you plopped yourself onto one of the stools, slumping your arms over the counter. A human bartender took one look, hiding an ever so slight smirk, before asking if you needed a drink. You replied with two pints of the drink of your choice, and sliding a ten pound note to the man. A scoff came from him, before taking it and preparing a single drink, before sliding it to you. “New ‘round here? Most are seven ‘quid a pop.”

Oh, of course. It’s London. Everything is more expensive than anywhere else in England. A groan escaped your lips as you took your first sip, before glancing over to see what’s on TV.

You were met with the picture of a fallen Apollo Victoria Theatre, reduced to nothing but rubble.


	2. On The Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought you'd found peace after drowning yourself in alcohol. You weren't prepared.

Smoke wafted around the debris of the fallen site of Apollo Victoria Theatre, the footage now being livestreamed to the entirety of England. Several fire trucks had been summoned to the scene, as well as the red and blue flashing lights of the police marked their arrival. Rescuers were trying to find any hint of a survivor, yet you knew that there went any. 

All you could do was watch, cowering behind your fresh glass of drink as you watched the reporter recall the events that happened not long ago. Despite staring at this screen for more than ten minutes, your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from the filthy vision of the bar’s flatscreen. To think you were there only half an hour ago made your skin crawl, along with those two horrible, _horrible_ excuses for men. No, for humans, rather. They were inhumane, cackling at the chaos they made with their own hands. Well, at least the smaller one was. The larger one stood tall and glared out onto the tragedy in mostly silence, grunting commands to the lithe one of the two. You remember their faces all too well, considering yourself lucky you didn’t get the chance to see them up close and personal, moments before they took your life.  

Sipping away, you spent the next hour in this state, unsure where to go next. By this time, it had been confirmed there were no survivors, and the body of Bradley Tennant had been found within the rubble. The reporter explained the body had been found with a hole in their chest, and their right limbs torn off from a possible explosion. Their bones had been crushed from the rubble, too. Hearing, seeing all of this made you want to curl up even more in your pit of guilt and dismay. You wanted to sob, to scream, to let it all out. He was your uncle, one you cared for dearly and one of the last members of your family you could still relate to. Yet, what could you of possibly have done to prevent this, however? 

Nothing. You were only an average soul, one whom would prefer the quieter life in a nice, small cosy home. You weren’t going to be home for a long while. Paranoia had kicked in by this point, convincing you that home was too far away to escape. You had to hide within the city for now, at least until sunrise. When the sun rises, everything will be okay. Or at least you hoped everything will.

Pushing your glass away from your grasp, you took a moment to throw your head back, letting out a long exhale while staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. You were stuck in limbo, a mixture of mourning and contemplation. Dark thoughts swirled through your inner mind, entering a state of pure gloom. Smoke filled your nostrils as many of the folks within these walls puffed away at their cigars and cigarettes. Said smoke was causing a small haze in the room, making the bar feel slightly more intimate than the norm. It didn’t help that the lights were dim in here too, but at least that helped you not pass out from your oncoming migraine. Oh right, you probably shouldn’t of drank something knowing your head was threatening to erupt into a world of pain. Though it was more convenient and quicker than obtaining some sort of painkiller. 

Your senses focused on the smoke in the room, filling your lungs with the harmful fumes. While you never smoked yourself you often hung around those who did smoke often. It never really bothered you. In a way, you found it comforting to be around the scent, often associating it with people you loved. Your eyes were drawn away from the cracked and aged ceiling as the doors to the bar opened with a crash, however you were the only one to react to the loud entrance of the two new bodies.

The bartender’s mouth morphed into a grin, mumbling to himself. You turned to face them to try and catch what he hushed under his breath. With a gleam in his eye he had noticed your curiosity and simply spoke;

“A pair of faces I hadn’t seen in awhile. Didn’t think it would be this soon they’d come back.”

Soon, the smoke in the air had a shift in scent to a more sickening smell. The same whiff of despair you were enshrouded in the theatre not long ago. Just noticing the change in the air made your hairs stand on end, and your muscles began to tense. You turned back again to properly catch a glimpse of the newcomers.

It was none other than _them._

Junkrat and Roadhog. Did they stalk you here? But how!? You could've sworn the Hog hadn’t tailed your path of escape once you left the barely standing walls of the theatre. A sharp tingling feeling began to arise in your gut, and your heart began to pump harder, faster. An icy touch crawled it’s despicable fingers down your fragile spine, making your whole body go rigid in anxiety. However the feeling of eyes honing in on you never came. As the two criminals casually strode inside, everyone in the bar didn’t care about their appearance despite their record and fame. Even the bartender seemed to carry on, minding his own business knowing he’d be better off not interfering.

You slunk back into your seat, keeping your head low and avoiding staring any longer. You knew for sure if Roadhog saw you here there would be confrontation. Looking across the stalls you noticed another hardened appearance, a woman who had knives attached to her belt and possibly even more knives concealed in her clothes. You began to piece things together that this bar was well hidden and out of the way of the main streets of London for the sheer reason that it was for lawbreakers. 

The Junkers had settled on a table in the middle of the bar and a sharp whistle sounded from Junkrat. “Oi! Service please! ‘Giss a bottle of the good stuff, ya know. A nice cold Fosters!” He demanded, before patting his metallic hand on the table twice. A toothy grin grew on the soot covered mess of a face which revealed a golden canine (or two. You didn’t stare for too long.) to shimmer in the dim lighting. Roadhog gave a small grunt which then sparked the Rat to clear his throat. “Oh, yeh. A pint for the big guy too. Same stuff. No ice.”

The bartender began to prepare some drinks all the while looking back to you every now and then. It looked as if he had something to say, knowing your shift in demeanour. You gulped, a hardening lump in your throat beginning to form as you continued to stare at the bottom of your empty glass. Froth of your drink had collected at the bottom, teasing you for another pint. It weren’t long before curiosity had caught the better of him. “So. Love, committed your first deed tonight? You look a little shaken.” His voice was smooth, aged and had seen better days and perhaps he was a little too quiet. He had what one would call a cockney accent. You gaze up at him for a second or so before letting out a gentle sigh. “I… I’m. M-Mind your own business. Please.”

The bartender looked taken aback from your anxious reply and quirked a brow. A soft chuckle left his lips before grabbing the two drinks he had prepared for the awaiting Junkers. “Suit yourself. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

After giving his one final comment the Bartender took the drinks to the thirsty Junkers. Junkrat gave an impish giggle once his drink was placed on the table, along with a quick, “Thanks mate! Nice one!”, to the tender before proceeding to down his bottle. Roadhog, however, hadn’t picked up his drink right away. While the tender had made small talk with you, Roadhog’s eyes had trailed upon the scene and had caught you looking up to speak to the Bartender. Immediately he knew who you were, but sat still in his seat for the time being. Junkrat had caught on to the stares of his bodyguard. “Eh? What is it, Roadie? Ya see somethin’ pleasin’ to the eye?” Rat questioned and followed his gaze only to lay eyes on you, currently slipping back to putting your head down.

You didn’t even have to look back to know you were being watched. It was amazing how the human sense can detect when you had a pair of eyes on you despite not looking back, and with this feeling you rose from your seat and mumbled, “Cheers. Goodnight.”, to the tender before promptly making your way towards the door.

On the way there, you had to walk past the table of the Junkers, and you held your head down while you did. It was merely a second you brushed past the table before you heard the chairs surrounding it beginning to creak and skid across the floorboards below. They weren’t prepared to let you slip this time. 

“ _Shit.”_ You cursed under your breath upon hearing wood on wood and the arrangement of feet, feeling anxiety overtake your body. You sprinted into action, making the final dart to the door and rushing out back into the wild world. Junkrat and Roadhog had also morphed into a run in hot pursuit behind you. Post-haste you grabbed the handles of the motorcycle you had left just outside the bar and attempted to get back to start. Your foot kept missing the gas pedal in shaking fear which had given the Junkers enough time to come outside.

“Found ya!” Junkrat screeched in euphoria followed by his trademark jocular laughter. You turned back to see them closing in, Roadhog grabbing his hook from his side and getting ready to swing, when you finally floored the pedal and began to take off into the night once again. Hog had saw your attempt of escape and so approached the side alleyway of the bar to get on his bike, while Junkrat, frag launcher in hand, fired a few bombs in your direction in attempts to hit your get-away bike.

You barely had control of your steering, and in your favour it had caused Junkrat to miss every time which only made the Junker growl in frustration. Whimpering, you eventually got control back in your hands and powered your bike onto the road, flooring it. These airborne motorcycles often ran on some modern petrol, which reminded you of the scent of burnt rubber. The stench had filled the air soon after flooring the pedal, and a displeased “ _Whrrrr_ ” came from the back of your bike. Soon that scent was replaced with the potent stink of gas and petrol, along with a thundering rumble and an obvious _“VROOOOOM!”._

Whipping your head back in urgency you saw Roadhog in the seat of a huge Harley, revving the engine furiously. Unlike your own ride, this one had wheels. Puffs of smoke left the exhaust as he sped up, getting closer and closer to your pathetic excuse of an escape bike. Attached to the Harley was a side car, painted yellow and donning the decoration of a crude grinning face with crosses for eyeballs. Junkrat had taken a nest within the seat, aiming his frag launcher at you with a menacing grin. That cold, icy feeling you once had in your spine was now gone, only to be replaced with a burning heat to the left of your body, mostly near your neck region as the madman had fired more cherry bombs, causing the earth to tremble and quake. You felt the tips of your hair on edge of being fried from being near the sheer force the explosions made nearby. No. No no _no_ **_no!_**  

Getting your eyes back on the road, you began to steer towards the only place suitable to lose a bunch of madmen- The M25. Otherwise known as the Highway to Hell, it was the only place you can think of where it would be possible to lose these men without having to go through endless roads and possibly get stuck in a dead end. Signs were a blur as you broke the speed limit, even on this shitty excuse for a hoverbike. You thought the maximum speed these things could go was 30 miles per hour, though turns out they were wrong. 50 was the maximum, evident by the floating bot you bolted past which now blared a punishing red. A speed patrol bot, a common sight in the streets of London to cut down on speeders. However it’s reign was short lived as Junkrat had fired a bomb directly at it, turning it back into nothing but bolts and scrap metal in carnage.

“You can’t run forever, wanker! Somethin’s gotta give soon!” Junkrat had bellowed to get your attention, reloading his frag launcher. Not if you can help it, the thought quickly passed your mind as you took a turn, skidding across the road in a harsh fashion. You really, _really_ hoped there wasn’t any civilians on this chase. It was unlikely considering it was in the very early hours in the morning now, and darkness still covered the sky.

Going through your first red light, barely avoiding an oncoming car who screeched into a halt, you noticed the highway was in sight. Only a few more turns here and there until you were on the road. Bravely, you decided to take a look back to see if the Junkers had followed you thus far. Indeed they have, but what was more concerning was the fact they had become closer than before!

Junkrat was evidently amused at your terrified expression, howling in joy and his amber eyes appearing to glow under the very little light the lamp posts on the streets provided. He fired another bomb, one in which that was guaranteed to hit unless you had moved away. Surprisingly your reflexes were good for once, and you managed to dodge the majority of the disruption the bomb created. Pieces of tarmac and rubble flew past you, some of which grazing the skin of your cheek and you swore you felt something lodge itself just beneath your shoulder, which caused you to cry out in pain. 

A grunt growled from Roadhog upon hearing your cries. “Make ‘em squeal, Rat.” The Bodyguard slurred cruelly, revving his engine once again.

“Righto!” The Rat joked, his grin turning into something sinister. You had heard the exchange between the two, as a result it made the pain seem ever more real. Seriously, can’t this bike go any faster?! Looking back now would only cause you to panic further, so you bit your lip and zoomed onwards, now approaching the entrance to the M25.

Cars, trucks and vans were scattered across the monstrous length of road, but that didn’t phase you at all. In fact, you hoped that would aid your escape in some form. Getting onto the highway itself was a series of swinging in and out of different lanes, overtaking various vehicles which sparked anger in a few drivers. Their anger soon faded into paralysis as they saw the Junkers do the same, putting their cars into a halt to avoid getting into serious danger. Anyone that failed to do so ended up with a bomb to the bonnet, and soon enough their horrid demise. Many had slammed onto their horns, expressing their anger to you as you overtook more and more of the unsuspecting, your mind only focusing on your own survival. You were more than pumped to say the least, and to say you were terrified was an understatement. Your body was pleading for you to freeze up, to hold still, but something inside of you drove you forward to flee.

Not once did your foot leave the gas, hoping that your bike would somehow obtain the ability to go more than 50 miles per hour. This time, you were out of luck.

 Your unlucky streak didn’t end here.

A bomb had managed to hit the back floaters of your bike, causing you to jump and lose control of the bike momentarily. Now having a death grip on the handles of the bike you desperately tried to regain yourself, not as if you were already all there in the first place. Smoke began to shimmer into the air, and the once white, blue and red lights of the accents began to flash and blare entirely red.

_Operator! System has encountered an unexpected error. Please pull over and evacuate the bike’s perimeters as soon as possible. Then proceed to call the National---_

 

**_BOOM._ **

 

Yet another bomb had hit the back of your bike, this time causing the AI to shut off, along with the lights. The bomb had hit a vital part of the motor’s function, causing it to switch off, yet you were still moving. It weren’t going to be long before you had lost your speed. You already felt yourself slowing down, the physical speedometer showing the decrease in number. _50, 49, 48, 47, 46._ Your heart began to sink in time with the numbers, hearing the bike of the Junkers approach closer. Taking in the very few options you had, London was now out of sight, and only the trees and fields surrounding the highway was your only chance of escape. With a deep breath, you take a chance and use your final boost of speed to cross to the railings of the M25. Using the last of your strength, you manage to jump the railings and fall into the fields of the British countryside, escaping from the light of the highway.

The Junkers didn’t hesitate to follow, Roadhog crashing through the railings and pursuing your meek attempt at a Plan B. Junkrat eyed your slowing bike, and took one last aim at the wheels.

_Click!_

A crackle rang out in the air, and a light soon illuminated above you. Looking back, you only caught the last few seconds of the bomb falling near you. It was too late.

 **BOOM!**  

The final blow to the bike was enough to make it give, and it was a direct hit. The metal and plastic exploded into a mess of carnage, the back of the motor had finally turned to wreckage. The explosion had jolted you into the air, causing you to flip into the air and into the ground a few feet away. The bike had plowed into the dirt, now laying lifeless on it’s side, wires and torn metal poking out where the back once was.

You landed on your front, left cheek hitting the grass below. Your arms sprayed out and legs suspended in the air as you took most of the fall on your stomach. Pain rushed through your body, your brain sending alarm signals throughout. A whimper escaped your lips, feeling blood dribble down your bottom lip and forehead. Blood had soaked through the clothing around your right arm, where the unidentified object had struck you from earlier. Eventually your legs gave out, collapsing onto the floor, leaving you as a defeated, yet still alive mess.

Fight yet still lingered within your body.

Gasping heavily and suppressing the pain, you managed to get to your hands and knees as Roadhog passed you on his bike, parking a foot or so away from you. Steadily, he slid out of his seat and grabbed his gun, approaching you. You heard a snicker behind you which soon evolved into a full blown maniacal laugh, the Rat indulging in his victory. You were surrounded by two of the world’s most wanted criminals, both of which had gone out of their way to chase you all because you were the only survivor and the relative of the now dead Tennant.

 

“Looks like we caught ya, rodent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Again, any critique and comments are more than welcome!
> 
> I have Chapter 3 written up already, but I need to do some editing before I'm happy with releasing it first. Shouldn't take too long hopefully! <3


	3. Snared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood leaked down your skin, and tears streamed across your cheeks.  
> You've been caught.

A feeling of rushing pain was spinning within the mind, along with the hot warmth of blood trickling on the skin. The aroma of burnt flesh and bonfire dominated the air like unwanted company. Bile began to build up in your throat, the migraine finally coming into full throttle and edging your guts to spill your load in attempts of your body to recover. Tears began to stream down your cheeks in agony, causing your vision of the towering man before you to be ever more blurry. Though, you could tell he was completely fixated on your writhing body. Through all the pain that bite, tore and shocked your system, you held frozen on your hands and knees, the final push. 

All of which was futile. The moment you turned your body to start crawling away from the lumbering Hog you had barely managed to turn the other way, which prompted for the man to slam his foot onto your back. Your lungs puffed out a pained response, making you collapse onto the dirt. The new weight on your spine caused you to shiver and began to sob. Your lips began to mouth words of begging, mercy, and pleading. Yet no sound came. 

“Move again, and your brains will be splattered on the floor.” Roadhog snapped and pointed his gun in preparation in case you were stupid enough to try and escape again. It wasn’t even worth it at this point. 

Shuddering and gasping for oxygen, your tears began to mix with the blood that trickled down your cheeks. “P-...Please…” You managed to harshly drawl, your eyes soon meeting with Junkrat’s own piercing amber eyes. A light gold ring circled the otherwise fiery eye colour of the Junker, and he even had two gold teeth in his sickening grin to match. Your own bloodshot, betrayed eyes didn’t stare at his for too long. The twitching of the other made you feel more uneasy after all. “Please just let me go… I-I swear I won’t tell anyone! I s-swear!” 

Your plea made Junkrat quirk a brow before giving you a particularly nasty glare. “Oh, it ain’t that simple, Pommie. For all I know you could be spillin’ lies about your ‘lil swear.” The Rat called you out in response, his body shivering in a way that you weren’t sure if the guy was cold, or just shivering in insanity. 

Pommie? That was an insult you didn’t hear often. You would've cringed at it if you weren’t currently pinned down by Roadhog. “Why w-would I lie? I’m not lying!” Your voice faltered as you retaliated, which caused Junkrat to sneer down at you. You weren’t expecting for him to kneel down before you, his face now uncomfortably close to yours. All of his toxic fumes of petrol and fire attacked your nostrils. You could of sworn this guy didn’t brush his teeth in a little while too. 

“Now that’s a phrase I heard one too many times before. They all say it, knowin’ how much the bountys got on us. Ya know, I thought ya were the clever sort. You slipped ‘ight past old Roadie with your little blood smearin’ trick.” He began, scrunching up his nose at you. He suddenly had a grasp around your face, moving your head around to get a better look at you. 

You resisted the urge to spit in his face right then and there. 

A chuckle came from deep within, as he then held your head. “So much so I woulda thought you had a good excuse for when you got caught by us. At the moment, mate, you ain’t bein’ very convincin’ to up and let ya go, little Tennant.” Junkrat explained while staring at you with a sinister intent. 

More tears flowed from your eyes as well as your nose beginning to run with snot. You just wanted this all to stop, for them to leave you here and sob your heart away. They’ve already taken your uncle, along with many innocents, and now they were teasing you with the threat of death. Junkrat noticed your running nose and pulled his hand away from your cheek, wiping his hand on his trousers with a small giggle. He still remained kneeled and his grin never wanted to fade away. After hearing a grunt from Roadhog, along with extra pressure being applied to your back to make you squirm a little more. “So. C’mon. Let’s make a deal, Pommie. We both don’t want your pretty little insides to be strewn across the soil huh? Keepin’ your mouth shut ain’t enough for us to let  _ you _ go. We know who you are.” 

You felt the eyes of Roadhog bear down into the back of your skull as Junkrat waited expectantly. He knew you were scared. He knew that you had to be some sort of lucky civilian telling from your clothes and your immediate reaction to being caught by them. 

You held your mouth open, trying to think of something to say. “I…” You hesitated, closing your mouth again and swallowing a lump in your throat. “I don’t know what you w-want from me… I’m nothing like my uncle. I don’t have any special skills. I’m not a criminal. I… Fuck, I’m scared of my o-own shadow…” You admitted, looking away and biting your teeth. Junkrat began swinging his hand in a motion, nodding his head and mouthing the words, “Come on… And?”, which made you pause. You had to say something--- anything!

“I’m… I’m training to become a carer. I tend to wounds. I provide advice and comfort to others. I run errands…” Somehow you carried on from your self-degrading speech to something you hoped sounded promising. Indeed, the ears of the rat had pricked up, his eyes lighting up. He held out his metallic hand, silencing you.

“Hold on a tick. You tend to wounds, eh?” Junkrat repeated the phrase of your sentence, cogwheels in his brain cranking into gear and forming an idea. A hand of his began to rub at the pointed chin he possessed, eyes squinting at you.

You had a little look of bewilderment, before you nodded in confirmation. “Y-yes, I… I’ll offer you any services I can provide to you- as long as you won’t hurt me!” You spoke without thinking, mentally kicking yourself afterwards. Providing medical insight and care to  _ criminals?!  _ What next? You were going to travel with them!?

“And what about your uncle’s fortune?”

“What?”

Junkrat sneered, examining his hand. “Don’t you tell me you don’t know. I’m sure you do know about the riches your prick of a uncle musta been sittin’ on. We want in on that. All of it.” He explained before making a crushing motion with his hand. “We won’t ‘ave a deal until we take what we came for, mate.” 

Who cared about the money anyway?

“F-Fine…” You stuttered out. “I’ll help you get--”

“Now we’re cookin’!” Junkrat exclaimed and patted your cheek somewhat harshly. “Been thinkin’ about gettin’ someone along with us to do the chore of patchin’ us up. You’re in luck, pom pom! We might be able to sort somethin’ out with ya now.” A small series of grunts came from the man above after Junkrat finished his sentence, prompting the smaller Junker to shoot a gaze up at his companion. “Aw, c’mon Hog! Look how scared they are! We’re doin’ them, and us, a favour by bringin’ ‘em along!” 

An agitated sigh left the mask of Roadhog at his employer’s plan, slowly moving the gun away from the back of your skull. Whatever Junkrat wishes, he has to oblige, no matter what. Roadhog gave a singular grunt of suggestion, before Junkrat nodded.

“Well of course! Go on then, times a tickin’. Dunno if the coppers ‘ave found out about this one yet. Haul ‘em up for me!” Junkrat commanded. With that said, Roadhog lifted his foot from your back, causing a rush of relief to flow over your body. It was short lived when your arms were grabbed to pivot you back on your feet, and you were restrained with the beefy hands of the Hog. At least you weren’t planted into the ground anymore. Wasting not another second, Junkrat’s slimey hands began to pat down your body, feeling for anything concealed on your body.

A huff escaped your lips, and Junkrat shot you a dirty glare. “I told you I’m not a criminal.” You muttered, which caused Junkrat to scoff.

“Don’t mean you won’t ‘ave any sort of weapon on ya, mate.” He responded, giving your thighs and calves a good pat down before looking satisfied. You didn’t have a single thing concealed on your body, but that didn’t mean he didn’t catch sight of your bag wrapped around you. With a quick motion, his hand grabbed around the strap and firmly tugged, ripping the fabric and tearing your bag off your person. The tug made you jump a little bit, backing into the belly of Roadhog momentarily. A threatening growl sounded from the Hog when you backed into his stomach, the curve of the flesh filling up your back. You shuffled so you wouldn’t make either of you uncomfortable, no longer feeling the somewhat sweaty belly against your clothing. Junkrat began to rummage through the contents of your bag, pulling out your purse and phone. “Now what do we ‘ave here?” He cooed, unlocking your phone and staring at the home screen. Currently, your home screen picture was a simple scenery of your favourite place on earth. Before it was you and your ex, but you’d rather not talk about how that came to an end. 

All of those memories, memoirs and notes had all been erased the moment Junkrat dropped your phone to the ground, and promptly crushed it with his foot. His tongue slithered past his teeth in an awkward shit-eating beam when he ruined  your only means of communication. After that was dealt with his attention was brought to your purse, sliding his fingers inside every pocket and compartment. He found money, which lit a spark in his eye. Junkrat had taken every last note and penny you owned and shoved it into his own pocket. Next, he grabbed a hold of your driving license, and inspected it. Now he had confirmation of your name, he cooed it out in a menacing tone. “Is that really your name? And you’re almost the same age as me too! Aww!” 

You didn’t quite understand the change in his attitude as he smiled, taking in all of your info. “Well, hopefully we’ll ‘ave some things in common. It’ll make breakin’ you into our own way of thinkin’ a lil easier.” He admitted, before snapping your license in half. “No need for that anymore. I do my research. Well, Roadie does.” Junkrat paused to snicker. “We knew he was ya uncle. Also, I ain’t ever gonna call you ‘lil Tennant. You’re just Pommie from now on mate.” 

You winced. “You could've picked something a little less offensive.” You complained, giving one last sigh in defeat.

It seemed to make the rat deflate a little, before he shook his head. “Nah! It suits ya. You ‘ave no say in the matter. You’re our ‘lil pom pom.” Junkrat poked fun at you, grabbing your left cheek and squeezing it all while laughing his horrendous cry of mirth. You hated him. His laugh, his jokes-- You hated everything about him. But now he was your new boss in a one-sided contract, one you unwillingly signed up for. You doubted you’d ever make it out of it alive, too. 

His laughter was short lived when Roadhog spoke up. “Junkrat. The Cops.” 

Glancing behind where you were standing, Junkrat saw the red and blue flashing within the glass of Roadhog’s mask, and proceeded to turn his head back. Indeed, the police had began to make their search on the motorway, yet they were nowhere near the broken railings just yet. “Ah, bugger.” Junkrat began, patting your shoulder. “Guess we’ll ‘ave ta talk about your contract and rules once we get to the safe house. No worries though!” He spoke in a reassuring tone before facing you again. “Let ‘em go. I got ‘em.” Junkrat commanded Roadhog, who begrudgingly released your hands. You felt like he was holding onto your wrists tightly to make them raw so the cold air that suddenly hit your flesh made you shiver. Yet, you didn’t have the energy to run. Not like you had time before Junkrat now had a grasp on you, the towering Australian holding you tight and directing you to the Junker’s bike. 

Your feet dragged, and you found it a little harder to walk. Junkrat had a peg leg, as a result it made him limp as he walked. Did this guy seriously blow up his own limbs? That was going beyond obsession. His right arm, a robotic prosthetic, dug into your shoulder, making the pain a little more unbearable. You wanted to ask if he could grab somewhere else on your arm, but you didn’t want to step out of place. Not now, especially that you’ve made some sort of peace with the criminals. 

Roadhog had settled in the seat of his tattered Harley, and placed his hands on the handles. “Oi now, I thought ol’ Pom Pom was gonna sit with you.” Junkrat suggested, and that only brought a silent, deadly response from Roadhog. A simple glare, enough to let Junkrat know,  _ I’m not letting them on my pride and joy. _

“Ah, suit yourself. Guess I’ll do the work of question time on the way back, eh?”  The Rat replied as if Hog’s simple grunt was enough to say it all. You were intrigued to how long these two must of known each other to commune in such a way, but you pushed that thought aside. Don’t forget, you’re with two of the world’s most dangerous men. Regardless of the fact that Junkrat was sitting you in front of him in the sidecar like a child. Said sidecar had been built with Rat’s long legs in mind, however he had a little less room now that you were in it. “Your first job? Bein’ my arm rest. Haha!” He joked before placing both of his arms on top of your hair, leaning his weight onto you. You didn’t dare make a peep, though tears still continued to roll down your reddened cheeks. You wanted your uncle back. You wanted to go home.

Roadhog peered over to the two in the side car. Although you weren’t facing him, you knew. Something was going through his mind, something you couldn’t put your finger on. After a moment of (surprise) silence, Roadhog revved up, and began to take off into the night. Taking a deep breath, you looked back, not to stare at Junkrat, but to see the city of London slowly fade away as you took off into the countryside. A sight you were no longer going to see. You were no longer going to see home, family, or friends ever again. Life as you knew it was never going to be the same ever again.

Junkrat noticed you staring in lament, before a smirk crept on his face. “There will be time for introductions when we get there, Pom. I know you must be dyin’ to know about me.” Junkrat brought a finger to his mouth, giggling before chewing the end of his blackened nail. You weren’t sure if it was nail polish or just how his nails were, but from the sight of him biting it out of habit you thought it had to been like that naturally. How peculiar. “Oh, and uh, we’ll sort that thing in your arm once there ain’t police on our tail.” 

Upon his words, your hand instinctively held the area around the foreign object lodged into your arm. It felt like someone had poured salt into the wound it stung so much. It didn’t feel it had gone in too deep, however, but you couldn’t make any conclusions without taking a proper look at it first. All you could manage for now was a simple nod, and closing your eyes. 

A world of black consumed you. 

  
\----------

One and a half hours had passed, and you eventually were jolted awake upon hitting the cobblestone of the road. A gasp escaped your lips and you clung tightly to the sides of the sidecar, eyes darting around your scenery. Staring out to the horizon you were met with the late hours of the night, stars sparkling and dotted in the endless void above. What time was it? How long have you been asleep? A cackle from behind brought all of your memories back from the pits of your mind.

You’ve been kidnapped.

Junkrat managed to mute himself from laughing any further, covering his mouth to get rid of the rest of the giggles. Your head had swung round to see him gazing down at you in amusement. “I was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up. Kinda relaxed compared to earlier, aren’tcha Pommie?” Rat teased, before poking his tongue out at you. He seemed awfully more playful around you all of a sudden, instead of that intimidating, mad chaos-ridden state he was in earlier. 

“I guess I could say the same about you.” You responded, quirking a brow. “You’re acting a lot more relaxed. Especially to someone you’ve taken away from civilisation. What is your deal?” 

Junkrat frowned, before giving a displeased grunt. “Oi! I’m allowed to ‘ave some fun, aren’t I? Besides, you’re gonna be workin’ with me soon. But God Pommie, I’m hurt! I’m a human bein’ too ya know. I’m allowed to have a lil fun and banter right?” 

_ You killed my uncle. A part of my family. Human or not, I despise you with all my heart. _

You wouldn’t believed him if you weren’t staring at him, but seeing that hint of dismay in your eyes made you feel somewhat guilty. Only somewhat. For all you knew, he could be a brilliant actor. Clearing your throat, you recomposed yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t of said that. “Guess you’re right. Uh.” You paused, trying to think of words, but none came. In the end you just turned away, and looked onto the road ahead, ignoring the elephant in the room. Roadhog was still zooming down country lanes, ignoring any and all road signs. You were surprised the Police hadn’t caught on to them yet.

“Anyway.” Junkrat grabbed your attention again, resting an arm on the top of your head. “Point is, ya can’t always be hostile with us. Not that now we got a deal together. I’m not gonna be hostile with ya, so the least you can do is try and be cooperative, right? If ya don’t, it’s gonna cause problems. I don’t need anymore problems Pom Pom. Roadie especially.” Rat slowly explained to you, tapping the edge of his shoe at the bottom of the sidecar. “So. The names Junkrat. And this is my pal Roadhog!” Junkrat pointed his thumb to the behemoth driver, who didn’t acknowledge the current conversation. 

Taking a moment to look at them both, you sighed. “You already know my name.” 

“Yeah, it’s Pommie.” Junkrat commented with a chuckle. 

“No. I… I don’t want to be called that.”

“Well, until you can think of somethin’ better.” Junkrat ended that argument swiftly, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms behind his head. “Pommie. Pom Pom. Pom. It suits ya. And I like it!” 

Silence once again dominated the air as you went back to looking at the road. The wind brushed through your hair and skin, leaving the exposed skin feeling somewhat cold. You still had an ache in your arm, though since you weren’t dead, you came to the conclusion it was a minor object that had lodged itself into the flesh. At least your migraine was gone, yet a heavy feeling of loss still remained. You wanted to cry again.

You heard Junkrat begin to fidget behind you and tamper with his prosthetic arm. Out of curiosity, you looked back, but he had caught your gaze. An anxious blush appeared on your cheeks, and you looked away again. God, seeing him twitch and shiver made you unnerved, and those crazy eyes of his also made you feel constantly watched. Junkrat cleared his throat, expecting you to turn back to face him. Which you did, rather reluctantly, expecting yourself to explain why you decided to look at him. 

A different question came from Junkrat from the one you were expecting. “You live in London? Or outside of it?” His voice purred, tilting his head to the side and raising a brow. 

“You didn’t see it on my license?” You answered with another question, which caused the Junker to tap his lip. He looked confused, and gave a small shrug.

“I don’t remember half ‘o what it said. Or if it was a car or motorcycle license.” He admitted with a grin. “Ya don’t drive well either way.” 

You took a small offense to that, not like it mattered. You’ve only been driving for barely a year after all. You decided not to answer his question about your home, but sparking from his next question it looked like he forgot he even asked you that question in the first place.

“How old were ya again? 20 somethin’ right?” Junkrat asked, this time not taking silence for an answer. You nodded in response, and it made the Junker overjoyed. “Hey! I’m 25! Heheh, we’re like separated siblings!” Exclaiming in joy he had also began to wriggle around in his seat, impish giggle fits escaping him. “That’s great, Pommie! Now I won’t feel so bad when Roadie here calls me young!” 

That’s right. How old was the big guy, anyway? You pointed a finger at him, which confused Junkrat at first, before he caught your wind. “Yeah. He’s 48. Been around a lot longer than I ‘ave. Probably why we have such sparking conversations together.” Junkrat told you before exploding into more laughs, which only irritated Roadhog. You couldn’t help but pull a smile yourself, which Junkrat saw. “Hey! You  _ do  _ like my jokes!” 

Uh oh. You didn’t want for him to know you generally enjoyed his joke, so you cleared your throat and turned around again. You decide to take the subject onto somewhere else. Anywhere else, so you blurted out the first thing on your mind. “You and Roadhog are Junkers… Right?”

Junkrat paused, figuring out his response in his head first. Roadhog, however, took the limelight for once. “Used to be. Got thrown out. Junkertown doesn’t want us anymore.” 

Oh geez. You can only begin to imagine what kind of shit they must of done to get themselves thrown out of their own home. Where they grew up, survived, learned, lived. In a way, that was sad, but you had the feeling they had brought it onto themselves. You didn’t know a lot about the Junkers apart from how they came about. It was sad to think about in a way, but people are constantly evolving. These two have evolved in a way no one could stand, hence why they’re now in this position. Junkrat perked up, and sat up tall in his seat. “Yeah. The Queen got pissed with us. And boy, was she  _ pissed.  _ It was mostly Roadie’s fault though.” 

You looked at Roadhog once Junkrat had mentioned the blame, and expected for him to answer. Yet no answer came. Was he focused on something? Or was Junkrat lying about that part? You weren’t sure, but the Hog was no longer looking at the two of you. Junkrat moved his body to look past you, and a short gasp arose. “Hey! Pommie, we’re here! About time too! C’mon, we got business to discuss!” Junkrat announced as the bike came to a halt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and again, any critique is more than welcome!  
> I have hopes to update with Chapter 4 soon if enough people like this!


	4. Take A Seat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Junkers want to seal the deal with you with the final tidbits of their so-called "Interview". Well, Junkrat does anyway.

Feet dragging across the floor, you were practically forced inside of the safehouse by the lanky, yet strong arms of Junkrat. He had you close to his uncovered skin stained with various oils and soot, and being close to the stank as a result of such neglect of hygiene made you want to gag. Junkrat didn’t care that you were grimacing under his touch. His main focus was getting you seated, pushing your body roughly onto an aged wooden chair which threatened a creak once your weight had been tossed onto it. With a slam of the door, Roadhog emerged from behind Junkrat, looming before you as you shot a dirty glare to the two men. “Comfy, eh?” Junkrat teased as he rubbed his grimy paws together, twitching and spluttering small giggle fits. 

“Less manhandling would of been nice.” You replied with snark, your eyes already feeling tears forming. The man only told you to get out of the sidecar before roughly grabbing you and pulling you inside instead of just having you walk along side him. You thought you’d come to some sort of agreement while on the road, but it looked as if it weren’t that way.

Junkrat scoffed, quirking a (used to be pure) blonde brow at you. “What’cha mean, Pom? I weren’t bein’ that rough with ya.” Junkrat generally sounded confused, before he snickered. “Maybe you’re just denyin’ the fact you like me touchin’ you. I mean, who wouldn’t? With these lovelies for muscles? All the folks want ol’ Junkrat’s hands  _ alllll _ over ‘em!” He spoke before placing his hands on his his triumphantly, pointing his nose to the sky and giving a hearty laugh. Flashing his toothy grin at you, he gazed down, giggling still, all while you tried not to grimace at his ego. Looks like this guy had no concept of personal space, or what was rough and what wasn’t. Or, he totally did know and took his fake misunderstanding to abuse it as much as he could. He seemed like the type of person who would do that. As long as it didn’t end up with him with a punch to the face. 

Your thoughts were brought back to reality as the throbbing in your arm sharpened when Junkrat placed a cold metal hand on your shoulder. “Now then. Let’s see if ya really got the know-how, huh. Roadie, grab the kit. Pom Pom needs to patch ‘em up.” Junkrat barked before clicking his fingers impatiently, much to the despair of the larger Junker. With a grunt of confirmation the floor began to thud softly as Roadhog left the current room to go play fetch for his employer. The creaks of wood gave you an idea how far Roadhog had went into the building before he returned, carrying a small first-aid kit. 

“You’re not gonna help me get this thing out of my arm first?” You asked begrudgingly, wincing as you felt the area surrounding your new wound. Sure, it hurt like shit, but it can’t of been too bad since you were still awake. Junkrat just gave you a surprised glare. 

“Why should I? This is a part of your interview!” He announced, clasping his hands together. “C’mon now, you gotta be able to pull shit out of wounds aren’tcha?” 

You look dumbfounded. “Uh! Y-Yes, you’re right but… It’s harder when the thing is lodged into my arm. I can’t exactly use both hands to get it out, you know.” You reminded the Junker who then looked defeated, throwing his hands. 

“Alright alright, fine. After, ya on your own. We got the shit you need, and you have the know-how. Better than what I know with wounds and cuts anyway.” Junkrat moaned before approaching your side, getting ready to pull out whatever oddity was in your flesh. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea asking this guy to---

**_AAAAAAAH!_ **

You screeched in pain as Junkrat had no mercy on ripping the object out of you, causing further damage. You cursed under your breath, hitching in a large breath before giving him a glare of death. “You fucker! You didn’t have to  _ yank  _ the bloody thing out!” You roared, a fierce glow igniting within your eyes as your loathing grew stronger. More blood had began to dribble down your skin, though you still couldn’t see the extent of the wound due to your clothes being in the way. 

Junkrat appeared to be taken aback by your sudden yelling, eyes wide and brows raised. He was silent momentarily, before his demeanour turned into a thrown. “Oi! Don’t you be yellin’ at me for tryin’ to help ya! It’s out, ain’t it?” The man had defended himself, placing a hand on his chest and scoffing. The other hand he presented the piece of metal that was causing the problem, waving it around. “You really are a squishy one. I’ll keep that in mind. Heh.” 

After shooting one last stare at the lithe Junker your attention was drawn to Roadhog placing the kit on your lap. Well, at least he didn’t throw it at you or anything. But before you could even think about getting anything from inside the kit, you needed to be able to see what you were dealing with here. That meant getting your shirt off. In front of these two. One of which you were definitely certain was some kind of pervert. The other? Well. Maybe. Mind you, both of these men had their chests on display for all to see. Was everyone like this in the outback? Man, who cares. Your health mattered more right now. 

You proceeded to take off your top which seemed to spark a reaction from Junkrat, yet Roadhog remained in silence. “Oi oi, I didn’t know medical attention involved strippin’! Holy dooley Pommie, this is better than I--” 

A whimpering cry erupted from Junkrat when he was promptly smacked around the head by Roadhog. “Idiot.” Was all that was said on the matter, while Junkrat rubbed the back of his head like a defeated canine. Junkrat seemed to murmur something which only Roadhog caught, which only prompted for the larger man to shake his head and sigh.

After watching the exchange between the two, you very silently got to work, selecting the materials you needed from the kit. The wound was deep, but not too deep to do any serious harm. You managed to clear up the blood crusting on your skin with relative ease and apply some anti-septic after clearing up the wound and making sure the only piece of metal was the one Junkrat had yanked out. Enduring the sting of anti-septic, you then finally cover the wound, securing it with an extra length of bandage. To your surprise, you managed to patch yourself up quite well even though you were mostly using one hand to reach it. The Junkers looked satisfied with your work too.

“See? I told ya they weren’t lyin’!” Junkrat teased Roadhog with a grin. “I’m sure Pom Pom will come in handy. Hell, they do it quicker than you do when you try and patch me up!” 

“That’s because they weren’t squirming like a bitch.” Roadhog replied calmly, turning his gaze towards him. Junkrat scowled, shaking his head, and crossing his arms. 

“ _ I  _ don’t squirm at all! What are you talkin’ about ya big lug?” Junkrat spat and then poked his tongue out. “Sure it stings. But as long as they don’t need needles, I’ll be fine…! Ugh… Don’t say you gotta use needles, Pom. I hate those things.” 

You stared. This guy liked bombs and appreciating the art of making corpses, but needles is what gives him nightmares huh? You shook your head. “I’m… not a nurse. I don’t use---”

“Great! End of that problem. Now then. What next, Roadie? Anythin’ else we need to ask ‘em?” Junkrat had cut you off, leaving you with your mouth open and hanging, and mostly disappointed. You moved the first aid kit on your lap to one side, and otherwise sat still in your seat. Nothing but quiet dominated the room until Roadhog had cocked his head to one side to his comrade. “Oh right! The seal! Of course!” Junkrat exclaimed at the gesture. He practically leaped from his seat and limped his way out of the room. While he was gone, Roadhog had returned to staring at you, breathing heavily under his mask. He said nothing. You said nothing. Wow, this was awkward. And painful. 

You began to twiddle your thumbs, literally, all while avoiding meeting eyes with the behemoth. A long exhale left the lips of the Hog as he shuffled in his seat. “Three rules. No whining. No running. No bacon. Understand?” He spoke after what seemed like an eternity, which caught you off guard. “I don’t need two talkers giving me a headache everyday.” 

_ No… Bacon?  _ You thought. Judging from the glorious tattoo of a pig’s face on his stomach, the guy had quite the affection for the animal. Whatever, you’ll respect that. You just gave a small nod in response and Hog gave a grunt. “Good.”

After that, the two of you went back to waiting. Roadhog didn’t seem to stop looking at you, which caused you to nervously clutch onto the chair beneath you. You wanted Junkrat back. You wanted there to be noise, anything to distract you from this silent hell. You were scared of both of the Junkers, but Roadhog was an exception. He took the cake in terms of intimidation. 

Finally Junkrat had popped his head through the doorway, peering in to see if you two were still here, before giggling. “Found it! I got the seal. Now then.” Junkrat hobbled his way towards you once again, holding a strange device in his hands. “Hold still. This is goin’ on your wrist.” 

Without a chance to react Junkrat had grabbed your hand and slapped on the device, which immediately locked itself around you with a large  _ CLUNK- _ ing sound. It startled you, and once it had finished you recoiled to look at what he’d done. It appeared to be one of his own creations, painted yellow with a crude smiley face drawn on it too. A small red LED light was at the bottom of it, but it wasn’t currently on. “Wh… What is this? A tracker? My own little piece of Junkertown?” You had joked at that last bit, but you hadn’t intended on Junkrat actually laughing in response. 

Junkrat then revealed a small detonator from his pocket with a smile. “Heheh, good one Pommie! Nah, that’s a bomb. It’s alright, it’s all wired up nice. It’s a little experiment I made to try on omnics, but… Roadie here doesn’t quite trust you yet. So he wanted me to added an extra… precaution? Yeah, precaution.” He explained while brushing back the ruined hair he owned. 

You felt your stomach sink. “Precaution? For what? In case I run or something? You’re crazy, right?” You shivered, not wanting to examine the bomb currently enclosed around your wrist, but you couldn’t help it. There was an actual live bomb, that could be detonated at any time this madman wanted, on your body. 

Another cackle came from Junkrat, “Yes! Yes! I am crazy! It’s wonderful, ain’t it? Such a clever little idea. You can thank me for that one.” Junkrat had been caught in his own little world of egotism for a second, before he shook his head. “But don’t worry, lil Pom Pom! It won’t stay forever! Roadie and I want to test you on our next heist. Which… Won’t be for another week yet, but until then, it’s trainin’ for you! We’re gonna make you the best little helper you can be for us!” He attempted to explain, which… Well. Turned out didn’t be much of an explanation. 

Junkrat patted your cheek once he saw you looking more and more depressed. “It ain’t that bad, Pommie. All you have to do is listen to us and not try to escape us. You’re a part of our little company now. A duo is now a trio. Heh, I bet there’s a lot of people wantin’ to be in your shoes right now!” 

Yet your look of sadness did not leave your face. Dismay was scrawled all over your face, but Junkrat offered another smile. Why did he think that would make any of this better? Why did both of them decide that not pushing you, grabbing you and threatening you was not enough to let them be satisfied that you wouldn’t tattletale? 

Junkrat soon pulled away from you, and stood up tall. “Well, we’re all done ‘ere. You’ve passed the interview Pom Pom. Me and Roadie are gunna hit the hay, and I think you should too. Uh, speakin’ of, maybe you could use the couch for tonight. We’ll getcha a bed soon.” Junkrat began to ramble as Roadhog rose from his seat to leave the room. Now the man was acting that strange, friendly character again. As if he didn’t put something harmful on your body, or put you within a one sided deal. He’s holding you hostage here, making you work for him. Yet, if it weren’t for you opening your mouth and offering your skill, you wouldn’t be here right now. 

What a clusterfuck of thoughts. You didn’t know what to make of all of this, but you were glad to still be alive. To still be breathing. You were under the wing of two criminals now, with no current intent to hurt you. Things could be a lot worse, so you were thankful to still have your head. Slowly, you too got up from your chair, and brushed yourself down, weary of the bomb on your wrist going off at any slight movement. Junkrat had noticed, and cocked his head at you.

The Rat had gave you a small pat on your good shoulder, which had stunned you at first. “That bomb ain’t gonna go off at movement, mate. Worry yerself none.” Junkrat then pointed to the door, and directed you out of the current room. “Oh, you might wanna watch your step at night too. Lots of old traps, especially outside. Don’t really have a room for testin’ shit yet. Feel free to make yourself a tea or somethin’ though.” 

Once Junkrat had shown the couch, he had felt you be, limping off elsewhere to the house with a wave and a wink. The living room was connected to the incredibly small kitchen the safehouse had, evident by Roadhog currently making himself a warm beverage. You found yourself observing the man for a little too long, as when he caught you red handed he spoke. “Got somethin’ to say?” 

Eagerly you shook your head and averted your eyes elsewhere. Man, this place really was a dump. Pieces of old wood had been burned and ruined and left to rot on the floor, and old pieces of carpet had the floorboards underneath showing. You took a seat on the sofa only to be met with old springs that had torn through the fabric and poking you at odd angles. Pure luxury living this is. Regardless you tried to make yourself comfortable, eventually curling up into a ball. Roadhog’s beverage, from the scent you could tell it was tea, had caught the attention of your nostrils. It was a soothing smell, which reminded you of how truly exhausted you were. 

The Hog had somehow appeared before you in your small daze. You had only noticed the shadow a moment too late before something warm and soft had covered your body. Upon inspection, Roadhog had gifted you with a blanket decorated with small pictures of pigs all over it. As much as you wanted to weakly reply a thanks, Roadhog was quickly turning around and making his way to the other side of the house.

“We start tomorrow. Sleep tight.” 

\--------

Fields. Fields upon fields of corn. Gazing to the sky ridden with golds, oranges and soft yellows, the sun was descending. As much as the need to see other colours was strong, this world was purely in a limited pallette. Brushing the skin was the tip of a piece of grass, causing a ticklish sensation to run through the body. Nothing but the ambient of wind filled the senses, and a feeling of desolation. While true loneliness could be experienced here, but so could tranquility. 

Arising, corn no longer filled the vision, and the horizon was in sight. Home. Home was where the soul felt safe and whole, and that was where one should go. You needed to go home.

Beginning the journey, corn squished under the feet, only to spring back up once it had been released from pressure. There was no sight of home just yet, but something within knew it had to be within these fields. Moving faster, a call began to sing it’s song. Louder, and louder still, quickening the pace, the fields were turning to a blur, and turning a deeper shade. Yellows and oranges soon turned to violent shades of reds, the fields themselves becoming alight with fury’s fire. Your feet began to burn, scorching through the flesh. Swiftly moving on and ignoring the fire wasn’t helping.

Animal instinct had kicked in, running, fleeing, galloping towards freedom. The song was louder now, praying for safety and for your arrival. 

But just like that, your vision began to fade to white, and your body felt light as you left the realm of dreams.

\--------

You were greeted by peeking sunlight shimmering at the bottom of your feet all while forcing yourself awake in a sweat. Leaning on your elbows, you darted your attention around the room, heart racing in anticipation. For a moment you felt like you were within a dangerous situation, only to find yourself in the warmth of a cotton blanket. You had no concept of what time it was now, but you were glad to be out of the hell that was your odd dream. 

Only to remember the events of what occurred the early morning before, a whimper escaped your chapped lips. Bringing your left wrist to your vision, you inspected the bomb closer, taking in every little detail. Of course, not that you knew anything about bombs and how to disarm them. That little smiley face mocked you every time you glanced over it. Grinning. Laughing. Much like that hot-headed prick called Junkrat. 

Ah, yes. That’s right. Junkrat and Roadhog. Where were they? Surely they’d be up by now. How long was you asleep for? It doesn’t matter for now, you guess. Time was non-existent for the moment being as your mind drawled to the fact that you were  _ fucking starving. _

Eventually your stomach had won the battle of ‘ _ Should I get up or not? _ ’, and your feet found themselves on the aged wooden floor of this wreck of a building. Finding your balance, you lumbered your weight across the room to the small kitchen area and began to snoop around. Mostly these cupboards were empty, but then you had hit the jackpot. Cereals, pop-tarts, biscuits, cakes, scones… All sorts of items that could be considered breakfast essentials. Well, the sugary kind of breakfast essentials anyway. You were always the one to prefer to eat chocolate spread out of a jar than to actually put it on toast. Today, might also be the day you’d do that. 

Holding the jar of chocolate spread in one hand, your other hand still rummaged through the cupboard to see if you could find anything better. You noticed the kitchen was decent enough to have a stove, so hopefully these two had the sweet tooth for pancakes too. Indeed, they were, evident by the bottle of pancake mix you now held triumphantly in your mitts. A royal’s breakfast come true!

Putting the two containers to one side, you were now lost in your own little breakfast world. You began to scavenge for a pan and some extra sugar to put in the pancake mix. A smile had crept onto your lips for the first time since last night, good food was always the remedy for a bad situation. After making quite a bit of noise by moving various cutlery and trays, you pulled out a frying pan, large enough to make the perfect pancake. “Aha!” You childishly called out, placing the pan on the side of the kitchen counter.

You were about to head on over to the stove to turn on the heat and get prepping your delicious meal, though one problem had come along to ruin your day. A hand, big and chunky had found itself grabbing onto your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks and making your face return to shock. A low, displeased grumble came from behind a gas mask, which caused you to turn rigid. You were brave enough to turn your head, albeit painfully slowly, to meet the all so familiar mask of Roadhog. One final exhale left the filters, along with a warning;

_ “Sit. Down.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading! I'm surprised this has got 25 Kudos! ;u; Y'all so nice!   
> Since Halloween is coming up while I'm writing this I really hope I can get to the point where I can write a Halloween special!   
> The whole dream scene also gives me an idea to add a cameo for a certain skin I love.   
> But that's for later! c:


	5. Chocolate Syrup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return! And Roadhog finally makes breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for not updating in a while! I got distracted, but we're back!

Silence had filled the air ever since then. It felt as if you were being held prisoner underneath the grasp of the Hog, whose eyes (though you can’t see them) stared into the very ends of your soul. You could just feel his gaze bearing an incredible weight upon you, along with the weight of his hand pressing down on your shoulder. You were of an average height, so the Hog easily loomed above you with the highest intimidation. This didn’t contribute well to your rising fears as small beads of sweat began to appear on your forehead as the silence lingered ever still. 

Eventually, Roadhog grew tired of waiting. With a huff he lightly pushed you towards the table and forced you to sit down on one of the wooden chairs. At first, you were honestly confused when Roadhog pulled away after you were seated, shuffling himself away to the counter. Words were too late to leave your mouth as Roadhog interrupted.

“I’m making breakfast. You sit and stay still until Junkrat gets here.”

All was said, and Roadhog proceeded to rummage through cupboards and took a note of your findings splayed on the desk. You couldn’t help but watch the man do his magic, warming up the grill as well as prepping a few breakfast items including toast, cereal, eggs. He even took your pancake mix and decided to make a few pancakes, though not enough for three people. Maybe he wasn’t a sweet tooth? Roadhog had put some slices of bread on the grill and then topped it with sprinkles of cheese for it to melt into a cheesy oblivion. All while studying him, you felt your hunger grow into something unbearable. 

It seemed like the smell of toast and pancakes had summoned the Rat as you heard the man hobble his way into the room.

Facing your way towards the Australian, you were met by the other man grinning in delight, his amber eyes lighting up at the sight of Roadhog cooking. This sparked the smaller Junker to chuckle, and also slide himself into a nearby chair, almost too close to yours. “Well well! A lil hungry are ya, Pom?” Junkrat commented, giving you a shit eating grin. “You oughta try and be a little more quiet in the mornin’. Roadie doesn’t appreciate the racket!” 

Junkrat escalated into a small fit of chuckles, all while the Hog continued to cook in mostly silence, aside from the disappointed groan that escaped his lips. “Oh, and uh.” The Rat spoke once again, patting your good arm, “No cooking. Roadie is the only one who cooks. For now, anyway.” 

You watched Junkrat lean back in his seat, gazing upon you with… What you thought was a sense of greed and mischief. It was an odd look, one that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. For a moment, you were lost. Deeper and deeper your thoughts went upon staring harder at the Junker. His face conflicted you. He conflicted you. You were staring in the very eyes of your uncle’s murderer, along with many, many more souls lost to his hands. Yet he was also the one who spared you and took you under his wing, albeit, unwillingly. There were moments he would be mirthful and playful, but others, made you question his sanity. 

“Starin’ a bit too hard there, mate.” Junkrat finally broke your train of thoughts, leaning himself forward, and closer to you. You tried to instinctively move yourself back, however the back of the chair you were sat in prevented any further movement. A scowl formed on your face, while a smirk crept on his. Both of you, much to your relief, were ripped out of the interaction upon Roadhog plopping some plates down on the table. Pancakes, eggs, toast, and cheese on toast littered every bit of china presented. All of which made your senses crave the sensation of food. Yet, you held back. 

Roadhog shifted one small plate of two slices of toast towards you with a small grunt, before he sat down on a chair on the other side of the table. “Two slices of toast. One pancake. You’ve yet to earn us money.” 

“What?” You responded, scoffing a little bit. “You think that little is gonna sustain me? For all you know, I couldn’t o--”

Your voice got quieter as you protested, until you finally trailed off. Roadhog was giving you a particularly nasty glare throughout your whining, and once you had halted yourself, he gave a small grunt. After another moment of silence he finally pulled himself away from giving you stares, and proceeded to eat. The Hog had to lift the bottom of his mask in order to eat, however, and once he took his bite, placed his mask back down.

“So, what pig-face is trying to say is.” Junkrat got your attention, tapping his side of the table with his prosthetic arm. “You ain’t paid for any of this food. You gotta make us some penny first before we let you share all our goods!” He explained, taking a giant bite from his cheese on toast, chewing loudly. “I think he’s bein’ generous with the pancake, if I gotta be blunt, Pommie.” 

For a while after his answer, you sat there in mostly silence, debating if you were even allowed to touch your food. The other two men, now seemingly concentrated on their meal, didn’t take much notice of your neglect of self-nourishment. With a soft sigh, you decided to get rid of the bitter taste in your mouth with the gentle flavour of toast. You bit into the item with a soft crunch, and chewed on it slowly. Your body welcomed the sensation of food, and you instantly felt a tiny bit better after swallowing your first mouthful. 

During eating your first slice of toast bite by bite, you couldn’t help but see something in the corner of your eye. Turning your attention towards it, you were met with Junkrat observing you, all while nibbling on a piece of pancake he held in between his fingers. “I was gunna wonder when you'll start eating. Otherwise it woulda gotten cold. Then I would of had to eat it instead!” 

You returned the gaze, in mostly confusion. You opened your mouth to speak, but then instantly closed it again. “You know, I really can’t think why I don’t like the idea of eating right now.” You responded sarcastically, before hanging your head down. Prodding and poking at your other slice of toast, Junkrat gave a small grunt of disapproval.

“Oi. Now why would that be? You got somethin’ you don’t like on your mind, Pom Pom?” Rat asked.

“Why, yeah, actually. I do!” You begin, your eyes locking to his once again. “Why’d did you two do it?”

By this time, Roadhog had paused his feast, and focused his attention on his partner and you. Junkrat appeared to be a little taken aback, squinting. “Do what, eh?”

You can’t believe this. 

“Oh, I dunno. It’s only something little.” You taunted, before your words turned to venom, “You just killed my uncle. That’s all. Raided the theatre. Put my life in danger. So, why him? Why them?” 

In an instant, Junkrat’s expression soon changed. It was something more of a look of worry and surprise, but then realisation. “... Yeah… I forgot I had to deal with this at some point…” He mumbled to himself, before clearing his throat. “Your uncle? He was a---”

“He and us had a deal.” Roadhog interrupted his friend, before adjusting himself in his seat. He now sat with his arms crossed, leaning back. “Your uncle didn’t play nice. He was a dirty dealer. He employed us to apparently blow some omnics up. But it was all a facade so he could get another woman to sell. He even tried to hand us in to the coppers after.” 

“What?” You whimpered out, shaking your head. “Woman to sell? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Junkrat placed his flesh hand on your shoulder, which made you flinch a bit. But you weren’t in the position to protest. “Tennant took young girls off the streets. Your uncle would sell them to the highest bidder, for slavery, for brothels… Or for worse.” Junkrat continued from where Roadhog had left off, seeming a bit distressed. “Now we ain’t saviours or saints, but the things he did? Oh…” Junkrat shook his head, before returning to a grin. “Bastard got what he deserved. A little slice of what he did to people.” 

Junkrat’s grin soon returned after he recalled the events of the night before. You, on the other hand, seemed a lot more distressed at this news. “I don’t believe it…”

While you sorrowed in what possible scenarios your uncle might of been, Junkrat started to erupt once more into his normal self, chuckling and giggling. “Oh, Pom, I can show you the truth if you don’t believe us. He was a backstabber! A liar…” He trailed off, his grin soon turning into a scowl. “... With a load of cash, which is now rightfully ours!”

Junkrat leapt out of his seat, only to stand behind yours and grip on tightly onto your shoulders, leaning beside your ear. “And  _ you’re  _ the final piece to our little revenge! I’m--  _ We’re  _ so glad you came along at the right time!” 

A surprise gasp left your lips as Junkrat leaned in close, practically rubbing his cheek against yours. You wanted to pull away, but the Junker’s grip was agonisingly tight. Not to mention, he was pretty much threatening to hurt your bad arm further, which was causing you to wince. “W-Why me?!” You called out, wanting to squirm away. This only sparked another laugh from him. 

“Well, why wouldn’t you be the perfect candidate! You know your uncle was bloody rich. Sittin’ on all that cash while your closer family struggled... “ He began to lament as if he were you, a slimy finger of his gently tracing your left cheek. Suddenly, he pulled himself away, shuffling to move to stand on the other side of you. “I bet you know the exact things we need to know about his house! And his family, yes!” He covered his mouth in a child-like giggle, beginning to wiggle in delight. “I mean, c’mon! Why else would he be that filthy rich? It weren’t like his career was a boomin’ success, mate! He was only on broadway for fucks sake!” 

You were very slowly, throughout Rat’s ranting, you were slowly putting it all together. Yes. Your uncle was kind, caring, a gentleman, but there were some things you’ve noticed in your youth that you found odd. Sometimes on visits, you’d see him often leave for phone calls, or tapping away on his computer at the family table. Sometimes, when you were even younger, you’d end up in a place where he’d be trying to hide in secret, but upon entering the room and just about getting the time to glance over to his screen, he’d usher you out, tell you he’d be back in a minute.

He always took more than a minute to come back after that. If he ever  _ did  _ decide to come back to the rest of his family. 

Throughout his constant rambling and explaining, you dragged yourself out of your thoughts and looked up to the lithe junker who noticed you had returned to his reality. “It was just perfect that you said yes to this, no?” He almost cooed out to you expectantly. Roadhog was incredibly irritated by this point, on the edge of standing up and shoving Junkrat back down and telling him to shut it. But after awhile of silence, you managed a nod. A nod in which, caught Roadhog’s attention, and curiosity to pique. 

“Hey! Roadie, my little prep talk worked!” Junkrat exclaimed, then placing his hands on his hips. You then shake your head, which caused the Rat to deflate. “Eh? That’s not it? Then why are ya noddin’?” 

“I still don’t fully trust either of you.” You begin, resting your elbows on the table. Your eyes had bags underneath them, evident of stress and lack of good sleep, and perhaps now, insanity. “But… Now that you… Say all these things that my uncle supposedly did.” You continue with a soft sigh. “As long as you promise you’ll show me evidence, then I will trust both of you from then on out.” 

Junkrat paused, blinking a couple of times, unsure of what to say next. In his doubt, he turned to Roadhog, who now leaned forward in his seat, exhaling heavily. “We don’t owe you.” Hog stated plainly, cracking his knuckles. “You agreed to become our partner. Tennant was scum. Always will be. You have no choice in the matter that you will help us to his riches. Got it?” 

It wasn’t like you had a choice in the matter. You felt Roadhog’s eyes linger on a particular part of your person, causing you to examine yourself. Your eyes followed your arm until you reached your bracelet. Or, in their words, “The Seal.” Eventually you huffed in defeat, and slumped your body, nodding. “Got it…” 

A affirmative grunt came from the Hog as he resumed his relaxed position, grabbing one final pancake and tearing it into little pieces in his hands. Junkrat also resumed his original position, slumping himself in the seat beside you, giving a breath of relief. “Good! Glad we got that outta the way. Hey, Pommie, eat your pancake. Sugars good for you!” 

Junkrat edged the plate of the pancake towards you with a grin, and you greeted his response with a dead stare. Though, you had no energy left to want to verbally fight with either Junker, so you reached out and took the pancake with a small “thanks”. This made Junkrat snicker, before he too got to work on finishing off his pancakes. “Oh, Roadie! These pancakes are divine! So gorgeously sweet… Eheheheh…” Junkrat complimented before chowing down on the rest of his meal.

The rest of breakfast went in relative silence. Not a single piece of food was left on anyone’s plate, and for now everyone was sipping away at their warm beverages. Junkrat made a few jokes and comments here and there, with the occasional grunt from Roadhog. With silence, came impatience from Roadhog, who eventually cleared his throat to gather the attention of the two others.

“If you’re gonna help us out, kid, we need you to be capable of protecting your own ass.” Roadhog spoke up, aiming his sentence towards you. “We need some extra cash to get us by this week before we top it all up with the raid on Tennant’s house. So we’re taking you with us on a raid today.” 

You seemed very unsettled of the idea of going along on a trip to rob a bank this early. You knew you were probably going to be holding these Junker’s hands, but not this soon. You felt a hardening lump form in your gut which threatened to pierce and knot your insides, anxiety growing stronger. “Ooo, Pom Pom is coming along today? Ahahaha! Perfect! Then they can get a real taste of what we’re about!” Junkrat chimed in, clapping his hands in excitement. “Oooo, we gotta get you some bombs to take!” 

Roadhog put his hand on the table, making it thud slightly. “No. A pistol is all they will get.” He sternly told Junkrat, who then quietened down a bit in defeat. “And they stay right beside me.” 

“Hey! Who died and made you the brains of this operation?” Rat complained giving a groan. “Alright, alright, fine. We do it your way this time. But when we go to Tennant’s, I’m makin’ us a good old Junkrat special!” 

With that said, Roadhog rose from his chair, lumbering himself away to another part of the house, while Junkrat continued to laze around happily in his own seat, grinning in delight. You stared into the bottom of your empty coffee cup, admitting your fate in your mind. This was going to happen, after all, you did agree to this. Not that you wanted to, or had much of a choice. “So, what happens now?” You asked, while peering up to Junkrat.

“Now?” Junkrat repeated, before tittering. He sat up proud and tall and filled with intent. “Now we gotta get ready for one  _ explosive  _ evening.”

Soon enough Junkrat left his seat, limping towards the doorway which led to the stairs. “We got two hours, mate. We’ll getcha some clothes on the way, so don’t worry about that too much, alright?” He told you, before disappearing behind the wall of the doorway. 

“Wait!” You called out, which prompted the man to peer his head around the door a few seconds later, eyes wide. “Where are we going?” 

Junkrat’s body reappeared as he shuffled his way back in the room, sighing as he had forgot to tell you the most important detail. “Brighton! Lovely place I heard. You been there before?” 

You simply shake your head, which make Junkrat pout a bit. “Shame. Woulda been nice if we had a tour guide.” He simply commented, before finally taking his leave to the deeper parts of the building. All there was left to do, was prepare, and wait. 


End file.
